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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24942280">your love is my turning page</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/afire/pseuds/afire'>afire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Legacies (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, also pen dances ballet, canon compliant but not really, do pen n jo love each other? yes very much, see what i did was rewrite certain narratives to make them better, though admittedly the bar was not set very high</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:52:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,236</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24942280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/afire/pseuds/afire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleep has always been welcoming, but never more so than in this exact moment. Of course, this exact moment is also when Josie’s memories of the previous night decide to make their appearance.</p><p>“I am so sorry.” She scrambles into a sitting position, sheets twisted around her waist. “Pen, I am so sorry.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>192</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>your love is my turning page</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Penelope always stands in first position when she stretches, back arching, arms over her head. It is natural for her, in all the ways it wouldn’t be for someone else.</p><p>The rising sun slices through half-closed blinds, haloes around her like a blessing, lights a hearth on the kindle of her hair.</p><p>Mornings always find Penelope in some holy way, greet her like she’s an avenging angel come to earth. Come to this room, so she can smile sheepishly down at Josie’s tired eyes.</p><p>“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you.”</p><p>Josie’s exhausted, eyelids heavy even as she struggles to stay awake, and Penelope’s voice is soft like early dawn, a soothing balm that settles over the entire room.</p><p>Sleep has always been welcoming, but never more so than in this exact moment. Of course, this exact moment is also when Josie’s memories of the previous night decide to make their appearance.</p><p>“I am so sorry.” She scrambles into a sitting position, sheets twisted around her waist. “Pen, I am so sorry.”</p><p>Penelope just keeps smiling down at her, gentle like May flowers, twice as pretty.</p><p>“It’s alright. You had more pressing obligations.”</p><p>Helping her sister pick out an outfit for her date had certainly seemed like a pressing obligation, at the time of Lizzie’s asking. Now it feels more like a request that could’ve easily been denied, with little to no lasting consequences.</p><p>There is, in Josie’s humble opinion, nothing quite so devastating as sneaking into her girlfriend’s room several hours after the date she’d never shown up to, only to find the remnants of what would’ve been an amazing night just scattered everywhere; as if Penelope had tried to clean up, but couldn’t quite bring herself to.</p><p>“It wasn’t more important.” Josie’s struggling to put her thoughts into words, to vocalise the raw guilt she’s feeling, the burning regret. “It wasn’t. I know it’s not an excuse, but I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t even call-”</p><p>Penelope slides cool fingers into the space beneath Josie’s ears, prompting her to look up.</p><p>“Hey, it’s okay.”</p><p>And it’s this that tugs at Josie’s heartstrings, the ease of a forgiveness so willingly given. A forgiveness she has not yet earned.</p><p>“It really isn’t.”</p><p>Penelope laughs, the ringing of silver bells. She leans down and kisses the top of Josie’s head, with a reverence that Josie is sure she doesn’t deserve.</p><p>“You’re so stubborn,” Penelope says, voice laced with fondness. “Would you like to go back to sleep?”</p><p>“Pen.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Penelope smiles again, a little sad around the edges, but brilliant and beautiful as always. “I know you are,” she says. “That’s why it’s okay.”</p><p>Josie looks at her for a long moment, this angel of a girl, and wonders how she’d ever gotten so lucky.</p><p>“I love you,” she says, the only words that come to mind, as inadequate as they seem, too small to encompass the reality of what she feels for Penelope, the breadth and depth of it.</p><p>“I know you do.” Penelope presses another kiss to the top of Josie’s head. “That’s also why.”</p><p> </p><p>♫</p><p> </p><p>Josie rounds the corner into the laundry room and almost walks right into someone.</p><p>The person pivots away, spinning expertly on one foot in order to avoid the collision. It's a move that Josie is very familiar with, having seen it many times.</p><p>"Pen?"</p><p>Penelope blinks in surprise, but a smile blooms across her face once she recognises who it is. "Good morning," she says, before looking down at the empty basket in Josie's hands. "Are you here for your clothes?"</p><p>Josie shakes her head, is about to explain that she's here to get Lizzie's clothes, but stops when she sees the slight shift in Penelope's expression.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Have you checked your phone today?"</p><p>"No, I've just been ... " Josie trails off once she realises what she'd been about to say, feels her heart sink as Penelope glances away. "What was it?" she asks quietly.</p><p>Penelope turns, starts to steps lightly across the room. Josie trails behind her, unsure of what to do but refusing to make the same mistake again.</p><p>Because whilst Penelope doesn’t make a habit out of leaving, if Josie keeps letting her, one day she might not come back.</p><p>They stop in front of a set of dryers. Penelope takes Josie’s empty basket out of her hands, sets it on top of one of the machines, then puts another basket in its place.</p><p>This one is full, and as Josie looks, she starts to recognise the clothes.</p><p>Her favourite yellow sweater, the comfortable blue shorts she always wears to bed, a white hoodie that actually belongs to Penelope. The one that Josie had stolen, back when they’d first started dating.</p><p>“You ... did my laundry?”</p><p>Penelope shrugs, the tiny movement filled with more grace than should be possible.</p><p>“You’ve been busy,” she says, “and I know you tend to forget.”</p><p>Sometimes, though not exceedingly often, there are moments where, for just a split second, Josie can feel the full extent of Penelope’s love for her. The wholeness of it, the care that Penelope takes to make sure it’s a love that Josie understands.</p><p>Because it hasn’t always been like this. Josie remembers the beginning, the confusion of those first few weeks, the way they’d fumbled around each other. Good intentions aren’t always enough, and Josie had learned that, in those honeymoon days.</p><p>Penelope's love has never been loud, but it carries something different now, a certain quietude that Josie has learned to recognise.</p><p>There’s something almost hauntingly sweet about the reality of being seen, of being so thoroughly understood.</p><p>To be chosen is a gift. Josie has never felt more cherished than when she’s with Penelope.</p><p>“Pen, I ... I’m-”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Penelope says, gentle but firm, voice laced with a kindness that makes Josie want to start crying.</p><p>Because there is so much here that she doesn’t deserve, so much that she needs to do, in order to deserve it.</p><p>But Josie doesn’t want to let go.</p><p>It’s what she always does, let go of the situation, step back from the decision, give in to the argument. Josie is so used to getting swept away that she doesn’t even bother fighting the tide anymore.</p><p>But this, she doesn’t want to let go of this, refuses to talk herself into believing that she needs to.</p><p>“Pen.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I never want to lose you.”</p><p>Penelope smiles, earnest even in her confusion. She shuffles around a little, and Josie glances down to find that she’s unconsciously shifted into second position.</p><p>“You know, for a second there, I really thought you were about to break up with me.”</p><p>“After you did my laundry? That would be so mean.”</p><p>“I guess it would.” Penelope laughs softly, then she takes the basket that’s still in Josie’s hands and puts it back on the dryer. “Actually, if you aren’t rushing anywhere, there was something I wanted to ask.”</p><p>And, well, Lizzie’s clothes can wait; it’s not like she can’t come get them herself if it’s urgent.</p><p>Josie leans her weight against the machine next to her. “Sure,” she says. “What is it?”</p><p>Penelope pauses a moment, as if trying to remember a certain word, then asks, “Has your dad ever mentioned something called the Merge?”</p><p> </p><p>♫</p><p> </p><p>Josie likes when the sun is out.</p><p>Rainy days are good too, for staying indoors and watching as Penelope glides around her room, practising a dance she hasn’t had to perform in years. But there’s just something about sunshine, the steady warmth it provides.</p><p>Today, Josie’s out in the courtyard, tucked under an old elm and watching as light dances through the leaves. There’s a book open in her lap, but she’s long past the pretence of reading.</p><p>Josie doesn’t know how long she sits there, watching sunlight play in the foliage, before a voice interrupts her reverie.</p><p>“Is that mine?”</p><p>A shadow falls across the ground, and when Josie looks up, she has to remind herself to breathe.</p><p>Because Penelope has always seemed otherworldly, too good for this violent existence, too whole. But right now, backlit against the bright noon sunshine, a crown of leaves circling her head, she looks almost ephemeral.</p><p>Josie reaches up to take her hand.</p><p>“Is what yours?” she asks, tugging gently so that Penelope sits next to her.</p><p>Penelope doesn’t say anything, simply leans over and pulls at the hem of the shirt Josie has on.</p><p>“This?” Josie glances down at herself, trying to remember where she’d found the shirt. In the end, she settles for, “Maybe.” Then, a little cheekily, “But what’s yours is mine, right?”</p><p>Penelope laughs, soft and breathless. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.” She looks down at their intertwined fingers, leaning further into Josie’s side. “Also, we’re not married.”</p><p>“Not yet,” Josie says, without thinking.</p><p>The words don’t register until it’s too late, but Josie doesn’t take them back.</p><p>“Of course.” Penelope’s smile is evident in her voice. “Not yet.”</p><p>They sit in silence for a few moments more, listening as the slow afternoon breeze whistles through the trees.</p><p>Josie wants an eternity of this.</p><p>It’s possible that she has never wanted anything more.</p><p>“Pen.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I should talk to Lizzie.”</p><p>“I think that’s a good idea.” Penelope runs her fingers along Josie’s palm, tracing her lifeline. “Perhaps, also your father?”</p><p>“He lied to us, Pen. He’s been lying to us our entire lives.”</p><p>“Sometimes, people love us in ways we don’t understand. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least try.”</p><p>Josie exhales slowly, counting to eight as the air leaves her lungs, a habit that she’s developed over the years.</p><p>“I don’t think I’m ready to do that,” she says. “Not right now.”</p><p>“That’s okay, too.” Penelope tilts upwards, presses a soft kiss to the underside of Josie’s jaw. “In your own time, as always. There’s no rush.”</p><p>Josie takes a breath, then another. Then she starts to stand, going slowly so that Penelope doesn’t get jostled around.</p><p>“Alright,” she says. “Okay.”</p><p>Penelope stands too, stepping into third position for just a second before relaxing out of it.</p><p>She’s always dancing, even when she isn’t.</p><p>“Do you think you could come with me?” Josie asks. “When I talk to my dad.”</p><p>Penelope smiles, just slightly. “I’ll go anywhere you need me.”</p><p>“I know,” Josie says, because she does. “Me too.”</p><p> </p><p>♫</p><p> </p><p>Josie wakes to quiet music. She blinks, disoriented for a moment, before sitting up.</p><p>Across the room, Penelope lands in fourth position.</p><p>“Hi,” Josie says, smiling sleepily.</p><p>Penelope looks over at her. “Hello.” Her smile isn’t visible, in the darkening evening light, but Josie can hear it just as well. “How was your nap?”</p><p>“It was good.” Josie never means to fall asleep, but more often than not, if she’s in Penelope’s room, in her bed, she tends to drift off. “Were you practising?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t call it that.” Penelope moves closer, drifting across the floor. She leans down to kiss the top of Josie’s head. “Just making sure I haven’t forgotten anything.”</p><p>Josie hums in satisfaction, eyes closed again. She blindly reaches up, and Penelope anticipates what she’s looking for, taking her hand and sitting next to her.</p><p>“I’m talking to Lizzie tonight,” Josie says, after they’ve sat in silence long enough for the music to change.</p><p>“Tonight is almost over.”</p><p>“I don’t want to go.”</p><p>Penelope laughs, sweet like Sunday candy. “What if I told you that you can come back?”</p><p>Josie turns, presses a kiss to the arch of Penelope’s cheekbone.</p><p>“I just wanted to hear you say it.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Lizzie is not difficult to find.</p><p>Most days, she’s not difficult to find. Especially if Josie’s the one who’s looking.</p><p>Early evening often sees Lizzie in their room, doing whatever it is that she deems worthy of her attention at the moment.</p><p>Josie feels a little guilty for interrupting what looks to be a very productive study session, but not quite enough that she doesn’t.</p><p>“Hey, there’s something we need to discuss.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” Lizzie says absentmindedly, scribbling something or the other into her notebook. “Just give me a second.” She finishes the sentence she’s on, then looks up. “Okay, what were you saying?”</p><p>“I need to tell you something.”</p><p>Josie takes a seat on the bed, careful not to mess up any of Lizzie’s schoolwork. Her sister fixes the problem by sliding all the loose pages into her notebook, closing it, then pushing everything under her pillow.</p><p>“Whenever you’re ready, Jo.”</p><p>There’s no right way to go about this, so Josie just does the best she can, starting with what Penelope had seen, then going into the research they’ve both done. She tells Lizzie about how there doesn’t seem to be any information at all in the library, how some books have entire sections missing, pages ripped out.</p><p>Josie talks until she’s run out of words, then she falls silent, watching as her sister tries to make sense of what she’s just been told.</p><p>“How did Penelope find out?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“If Dad’s been keeping it a secret for all these years, how did Penelope find out?”</p><p>It’s a weird point to focus on, but Josie thinks Lizzie’s just trying to cope right now.</p><p>“She went to his office to collect a letter from her parents. Dad must’ve left his journal open on his desk; she told me she wouldn’t have read anything if she hadn’t seen my name.”</p><p>“Why wasn’t he there?”</p><p>“He wasn’t here that day, remember? It was when he went on that recruitment mission.” Josie pauses, her own words replaying in her head. “It wasn’t a recruitment mission, was it?”</p><p>If she’s having a good day, Lizzie laughs like she’s singing, high and melodic.</p><p>Today is not a good day. Today, Lizzie laughs like she has no other choice, the sound clawing its way out of her throat like a wounded animal.</p><p>“He missed our birthday for one of those,” she says. “The year we turned eight.”</p><p>Josie remembers.</p><p>“We should talk to him.”</p><p>“We? Yeah, no thanks. You’re on your own.”</p><p>“Don’t take that tone with me. I don’t want to talk to him either.”</p><p>Lizzie winces, then she sighs, tension draining from her shoulders. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to be snippy.”</p><p>“It’s okay.” Josie reaches over to take her sister’s hand. “We don’t have to do anything right now. Penelope says taking time to process is normal and healthy, especially if we’re trying to sort through a lot of new information at once.”</p><p>“I don’t really understand that girl.” Lizzie rolls her eyes when Josie starts to protest, tugging on their joined hands to stop her from interrupting. “But she loves you, and she’s good for you. So I can’t complain.”</p><p>Josie grins, always happy to hear that Penelope loves her.</p><p>“It’s not that difficult, you know?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Letting someone love you.”</p><p>“Okay?” Lizzie frowns, confused.</p><p>“I’m just saying, Hope won’t stick around forever.”</p><p>Lizzie throws a pillow at her.</p><p> </p><p>♫</p><p> </p><p>Penelope finds her by the fireplace.</p><p>“Sweetheart?”</p><p>Josie turns away from the crackling logs, sparks still dancing in her eyes as she tries to focus.</p><p>“Pen?”</p><p>“Right here.”</p><p>Penelope takes a careful step forward, doesn’t move any closer until Josie makes a strangled sort of noise, reaching out in search of comfort.</p><p>She is met with no resistance. Penelope folds willingly into the curve of the couch, opens her arms so that Josie has space to push in for a hug.</p><p>For a single, cotton-soft moment, they are the only people in the world.</p><p>Penelope lets the silence stretch into nothingness, then she takes Josie’s hand, quietly says, “Sing a song of sixpence.”</p><p>Josie still feels untethered, lost to the haze of her scattered thoughts, but the words are familiar, and she latches onto them, chases the lifeline she’s just been thrown.</p><p>“Sing a song of sixpence,” Penelope says again, slow and clear.</p><p>“A pocket full of rye.” Josie blinks, and when her vision clears, she sees that Penelope is smiling encouragingly at her.</p><p>“Four and twenty blackbirds.”</p><p>This time, Josie’s response is quicker. “Baked in a pie.” She sits up, takes a measured breath. “Okay. I’m okay.” Eight counts on the inhale, eight on the exhale. “I’m here.”</p><p>“You’re here,” Penelope echoes. “And I’m here with you.”</p><p>Josie takes another breath, focuses all her attention on the way the green in Penelope’s eyes seem to flicker in the firelight.</p><p>“Pen.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I’m scared.”</p><p>Penelope takes a breath of her own, then, as steady as she always is, replies with, “I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”</p><p>And, Josie knows that. Of course she knows. But knowing something is not the same as hearing it said aloud.</p><p>“Dad said they’re looking for a solution, or a loophole, anything that might work. He said we shouldn’t worry about it.”</p><p>“I always worry,” Penelope says quietly. “And I’m not going to just sit around, waiting to lose you.”</p><p>Josie closes her eyes, tilts her head back, lets a smile slice its way across her face, sharp like cut glass.</p><p>Because this, too, is something she knows.</p><p>Penelope’s love may be quiet, but it is no soft thing.</p><p>It has never been a soft thing.</p><p>“Want to know a secret?” Josie’s still angled toward the ceiling, eyes closed, but she knows Penelope is listening. “Sometimes, I wonder if you love me too much.”</p><p>Penelope is silent for a long moment, then she says, “Maybe I do.”</p><p>Josie opens her eyes.</p><p>“But I don’t think that’s how it works.” When Josie lowers her gaze, Penelope is looking into the fire. “Love isn’t about too much, or not enough.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“No.” Penelope stands, maintains fifth position for just a second before turning out of it. “Love is about me and you.”</p><p>Somehow, inexplicably, Josie feels like she’s just witnessed something holy.</p><p>Penelope takes a step closer, knees bumping against the edge of the couch. The dying firelight outlines her in molten gold.</p><p>“What would you do for me?”</p><p>“For you?” Josie looks up, marvels at how the shadows seem to give Penelope wings. “Anything.”</p><p>“Anything,” Penelope says, under her breath. Then, “Would you let me die for you?”</p><p>The fire roars back to life, spitting embers into the air. Josie almost launches herself off the couch, desperate in her haste.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>She’s reaching out, but Penelope is already back on the couch.</p><p>“There,” she says, taking Josie’s hands in her own. “That’s what love is about.”</p><p>Josie leans forward, needing to be closer even though she doesn’t really understand what Penelope is saying right now.</p><p>Penelope just smiles, sweet like honey, soft like rain.</p><p>“What you would do for me,” she continues, “and what you wouldn’t let me do for you.”</p><p>All at once, Josie feels herself relax, tension draining away as she falls forward, right into Penelope’s waiting arms.</p><p>“It’s not just me,” she says, finally understanding.</p><p>“Of course not.” Penelope runs careful fingers through Josie’s hair. “I love you, too.”</p><p>The fire is dying again, neither of them move to reignite it.</p><p>“It’s late,” Josie says. “Let’s go to bed.”</p><p>Penelope pulls them both off the couch, makes sure that Josie’s blanket stays secure around her shoulders.</p><p>“My room?”</p><p>Josie nods. “Please,” she says, fumbling through her makeshift cloak so that she can take Penelope’s hand.</p><p>Penelope meets her halfway.</p><p>“Okay.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No, I did not plagiarise this. Yes, it was me who posted this to Twitter before moving it here.</p><p>Title from 'Turning Page' by Sleeping At Last.</p><p>As always, comments/kudos are very much appreciated!</p><p>You may find me @scorpiowaltz on Twitter should you wish to say words to me.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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